


Pray for the Wicked on the Weekend

by 2bestfriends



Series: Rich People Are Wild [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Chastity Device, Collars, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Flogging, Gags, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Restraints, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Sex Club, St. Andrew's Cross, Sub Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 03:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19715596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2bestfriends/pseuds/2bestfriends
Summary: After a long holiday season, Bucky's feeling a little wound up. Steve makes sure he gets the attention he deserves to calm right back down.





	Pray for the Wicked on the Weekend

**Author's Note:**

> We promised we'd be back, and here we are. First up, Steve finally gets around to taking his cute little sub to the club. 
> 
> As always, we ask that you use discretion when reading. 
> 
> **THIS STORY IS NOT A HOW-TO GUIDE OR SUGGESTION LIST. IT IS FANTASY. PLEASE DO RESEARCH FROM REPUTABLE NONFICTION SOURCES PRIOR TO ENGAGING IN ANY SEXUAL ACT.**
> 
> Fic title from the Panic! at the Disco song, "Say Amen (Saturday Night)" because we've decided that all the stories in this series will require P!atD titles. What can you do?
> 
> Enjoy!

The thing is, Bucky's been a bit of a basket-case, recently. 

He's fine all through December, enough distance between him and the imminent start of classes to enjoy Hanukkah with Becca and her family and Christmas with Steve. Focusing so much on the holidays keeps him busy, until suddenly it's the new year and Bucky is abruptly confronted with reality. 

Classes start this month. Classes start in two weeks. For the first time ever, he's going to college. He's going to get a degree! 

And honestly, he's excited. He _is_. Bucky got into Columbia, which is pretty fucking amazing. But also he's terrified because life's been good for the past seven months. His relationship with Steve is great, the bookstore is great, his friends are great, his sister is great. It's exactly the kind of engaging routine he's lacked for so long. 

The idea of change after such a good run of consistency is really off-putting. 

Bucky's trying to keep a lid on it, he really is. He's trying to tamp down on all his restless energy and distracted daydreaming. He can't sit still, he can't concentrate, he's either desperately hungry all the time or he forgets to eat, and he's been so fucking absent-minded. 

"What are you doing here?" asks Steve, his brow furrowed. 

Bucky, sprawled on the couch watching Bob Ross paint happy little trees, raises his head. "Hm?"

"Aren't you supposed to be at the salon?"

"Uh," says Bucky. "Am...I?"

"You were going to get a haircut," says Steve. He looks just as confused as Bucky feels. "JARVIS?"

"Mr. Barnes did not appear to hear my two reminders," says JARVIS promptly. "I will call the salon and cancel, if you wish."

"Oh my god," whines Bucky. "I forgot. Fuck, I'm such a flake."

Steve purses his lips. "JARVIS, call Solei and reschedule for an hour from now, but for full service. Tip them extra for it."

"Of course, sir."

"What are you doing?" asks Bucky. "I only needed a haircut..."

"You're going to go to the spa," says Steve firmly. "You're going to get pampered. Then you're going to go out with my black AMEX and buy yourself a slutty little outfit."

Bucky's eyes go round as he stares back at Steve. His brain isn't processing what he's hearing. "But I—"

"Spa. Shopping. Now," interrupts Steve, looking as stern as he ever does, narrowing his eyes. "No arguing."

Snapping his mouth shut, Bucky feels a hot tug deep in his gut, back to his spine and all the way up. It propels him off the couch, stumbling past Steve with heat in his cheeks as he goes to put on his shoes and get his coat. He looks like a lazy mess, but he knows the girls at the salon won't care. They'll put him in a robe and get him fixed up quick. Steve stands over him, watching to make sure he obeys. 

"Do you have your phone with you? Your wallet?" prompts Steve. 

Bucky pats himself down and his cheeks go even warmer as he shakes his head. "Um," he says, "No."

"Stand there, don't move." Steve goes to find the stuff he shouldn't be getting ready to walk out of the penthouse without. He returns a moment later holding the wallet and phone and then he also holds out a cable and a portable charger. "Your phone is at 2%, Buck."

"Sorry," he mumbles.

Steve tucks his credit card into Bucky's wallet and then puts it into Bucky's pocket for him, stepping in close. "Now, you're going to be a good boy," he says, matter-of-fact and calm as he buttons up Bucky's thick peacoat and wraps a scarf around his neck. "You're going to go get pampered and you're going to relax. And then you're going to go buy yourself the kind of get up you'd wear to a bar to get my attention. Leather is strongly encouraged."

"Okay," Bucky says, a little breathless. He's not entirely sure what the end result of this is going to be...they've gone dancing before, maybe something like that? Why else would Steve want him to wear something attention-grabbing?

"Then, you're going to come home," Steve continues. He straightens the collar of Bucky's coat and cups his jaw, thumb rubbing pointedly at the stubble growing there. Bucky is transfixed. "When you come home all squeaky clean and soft, you're going to order up some dinner from the kitchen. Salmon, rice, and veggies. You'll eat, then shower thoroughly, and when you’re all done, you'll put on your new outfit."

"You won't be here when I get back?" asks Bucky. 

"No," says Steve. "I'm going to meet you at the club."

"Club?" echoes Bucky. 

"Clint will know where to take you. Give my name at the front. They'll bring you back to me."

"So we're going dancing?" Bucky feels weak at the knees as Steve steps back, finally releasing him from intense scrutiny. 

Steve's lips quirk. "It's a surprise. Are you going to remember all my instructions?"

"Um," says Bucky, face burning again. 

"It's okay," Steve chuckles, very indulgent. He's been so understanding, so patient in the face of Bucky's absent-mindedness. "If you forget, ask JARVIS. But for now: spa and shopping."

"Got it," says Bucky. His heart is pounding with excitement.

Steve leans in and presses his lips to Bucky's mouth and Bucky sighs, relaxing into the comfort Steve is offering. "Good," says Steve. "That's my good boy. Now go on, traffic is bad out there."

Bucky nods, feeling like a puppet, head bobbing up and down. 

Steve kisses his forehead and then physically turns him around and ushers him to the door.

Bucky floats his way down to the garage, where Clint is there waiting for him, helping him into the car with a grin. Bucky only remembers to plug his phone into the portable charger when it buzzes in his hand with a message from Steve.

 **Steve** : plug your phone in!  
**Bucky** : 🙏🙏🙏  
**Bucky** : ilu  
**Steve** : love you too. have fun.

Bucky plugs his phone in and sighs, tipping his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes. Clint gets him to the salon on time and Bucky lets himself relax into the experience of being thoroughly pampered. He gets waxed and tweezed and shaved and styled, manicure and pedicure, and of course, a massage to wrap it all up. The girls are very forgiving about him running late, no doubt helped along by Steve's generous tip.

By the time he drifts dreamily from the salon and back to the car, he has half a mind to call Steve and beg him to just let Bucky go home and curl up with him in bed. 

But.

They've had a _lot_ of family and friend time lately, lots of holiday parties and social gatherings. Bucky's really looking forward to the opportunity to dirty dance with Steve but not have to actually _talk_ to anyone _but_ Steve. So he goes shopping. 

On the way, he gets another text from Steve.

 **Steve:** Took DeeDee for a walk and put her in her kennel. The dog-sitter will come in to check on her this evening, feed her dinner, and take her for another walk.  
**Bucky:** you think of everything  
**Steve:** I try. see you soon. 

Bucky ends up with tight leather pants that the saleswoman swears do the best things for his ass and a black crop top tank. It's a little cold but he knows he'll be wearing his winter coat until he gets to the club and if they really are dancing, he'll warm up quickly enough. He also gets a pair of black boots and some jewelry.

Ever since he got his piercings this past September, Steve always enjoys seeing new decorations on Bucky.

True to his word, Steve is gone when Bucky gets back.

Bucky breezes in, feeling soft and pliable, like warm, stretched taffy; he wishes keenly that Steve was here to kiss and touch and pet him.

Still. He has instructions. Instructions that he's...half forgotten. 

Humming under his breath, Bucky kicks off his boots and drops his bags on the floor, shedding his coat and scarf. "JARVIS?” God, it really does feel like his brain needs a software update, or something. He's running on an old operating system. 

"Yes, Mr. Barnes?"

"What am I...supposed to do?"

"I have taken the liberty of putting your dinner order in with the kitchen already," says JARVIS. "After you eat, Captain Rogers has requested you shower and get dressed. He asked me to remind you that DeeDee is all taken care of for the evening. She's currently sleeping."

Right, of course. DeeDee all settled. Eat, shower, change. Steve specified he needs to shower thoroughly which indicates he's got, well, _sex plans_. 

While he waits for dinner, Bucky takes his purchases into his bedroom and cuts all the tags off, laying his outfit out on the bed. He wants to put everything on now but Steve said he should eat first. He doesn't want to get anything on his new clothes. That doesn't mean he can't put his new jewelry in, though. 

Carefully cleaning and disinfecting everything takes him a little while, a good task to keep his hands busy. He got silver barbells with little blue gems for his nipples, which match the ring he bought for his belly button piercing. The jewelry for his prince albert is just plain silver, though, a simple hoop.

"Your dinner has arrived," JARVIS informs him, startling Bucky out of his reverie as he admires his dick in the mirror.

"Thanks," mumbles Bucky, his face a little hot. He grabs a robe, wrapping himself up in it to go answer the door. He ends up eating his dinner over the counter, eager to get it over with so he can shower, get dressed, and go meet Steve.

Bucky's thorough as he gets ready, letting himself relax into the routine of preparing for Steve. His skin is tender and soft from being waxed and thoroughly massaged, and his cock plumps up just thinking about whatever Steve might have planned for him tonight. He gives in to the urge to touch himself, but only for a moment. A few strokes, a squeeze, but then he moves on with a groan. He'd rather wait, rather let the anticipation build. It always feels better when he comes with Steve.

After that, he moves quickly, getting out of the shower, toweling himself dry, and dressing. He brushes his teeth, styles his hair, and makes it out of the door and down to the car just in time to meet Steve. 

Clint pulls open the back door for him and Bucky slips in, glancing over at him. "So...do you know where we're going?"

"Yes," says Clint, his face very neutral. 

Bucky huffs. "No hints?"

"No hints, little buddy. You know how he is about surprises." There's a smirk on his face now and Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Fine, keep your secrets!" 

Clint, always up for a good meme, laughs out loud. "Will do, Mr. Frodo." He closes the door once Bucky is in the backseat and they head out. 

Bucky texts Steve as they move across the city.

 **Bucky:** hope i pass muster  
**Steve:** Well, if you don't, I guess I'll just have to address that when you get here  
**Bucky:** tease  
**Steve:** :)

When they pull to a stop, Bucky looks out the window. The building is in a nice part of Chelsea, nondescript but tidy brick with a shiny black door. "Head up to the door and ring the bell," says Clint as he opens the car door for Bucky. "See you later."

"This doesn't look like a club," says Bucky, as he gets out. There are no lines of people, no bouncers guarding a velvet rope. 

Clint gives him a look as he skirts back around the car to the driver's side. "You're thinking of the wrong kind of club," Clint says mildly. "Go on. I'm not leaving until you're inside."

Bucky just blinks at him and then turns and heads up the steps. He rings the bell, and after a moment, a polite voice answers on the intercom. "How may I help you?"

"Um, yeah, I'm here for Steve Rogers?"

"Of course, come in." There's a brief tone and the door swings open slightly. 

Bucky steps inside, the sounds of the city dying away. 

Inside, he's surrounded by a whole lot of velvet. It's dark, and it smells faintly of something sweet and spicy, like cinnamon. There are black and white photos on the walls of naked men and women all strung up artfully in black rope. 

Bucky's mouth goes dry. _Oh_ he thinks faintly. _It's that kind of club._

Dazed, his heart beating fast with anticipation and excitement, he approaches the ornate desk, where he now sees a gorgeous woman is waiting and smiling expectantly at him. She's wearing perfectly drawn winged eyeliner and blood red lipstick, which matches her red latex dress. There is a delicate gold collar around her throat. 

"Hi," Bucky whispers. He clears his throat and tries again. "Hi. I'm Bucky. I'm...I'm supposed to ask for Steve Rogers."

"Of course," she says, stepping out from behind the desk. She's also wearing six inch red stilettos. "Let me take your coat?"

"Oh. Thank you." Bucky shrugs out of it, handing it over, and she disappears it into a closet before gesturing for him to follow her. 

Bucky trails after her, wide eyed, looking at the photographs on the rich, dark walls. Somewhere beyond this hallway, he can hear the deep beat of music and the murmur of voices. 

"Here we are," she says, stopping next to a wooden door that has a silver plaque that says 'Gold Room' on it. She raps on the door with her knuckles and Steve's voice floats out clearly: "Send him in, please."

The girl nods to him and leaves. 

Bucky swallows hard and grasps the doorknob with a sweaty hand, letting himself into Steve's room.

Steve is wearing a black suit with dark gray pinstripes and a black dress shirt, open at the collar. It's the only sign that he's not on his way to the sort of business meeting that involves millions of dollars and a significant bump in the stock market. It's expertly tailored because, well, isn't it always? The darkness of his outfit makes his golden hair and blue eyes stand out, lending him an air of severity that's making Bucky sweat. 

It reminds him of the first few weeks of knowing Steve, before he really _knew_ him. And with this being the type of club it very obviously is, it's definitely a whole-ass _look_. Bucky shivers. "Hey."

Steve gives him a slow smile, beckoning him closer. "Hey yourself, Buck. You look...very good. C'mere and close the door behind you."

Bucky obeys, stepping forward. He feels a little underdressed, in his leather pants and hipster cutoff, but then again, Steve seems pleased. It makes heat coil in Bucky's middle. "So...a _club_ club."

Steve laughs. "Yeah. Is that okay?"

He doesn't sound unsure, exactly, but he is checking in. Bucky appreciates it. "Yes, I...um, you know I've been wanting to try one for a long time."

Steve hums, pulling Bucky into his arms when he's close enough, one hand brushing over Bucky's smooth jaw and the other curling around Bucky's bare midriff. "Well, there are a few options for tonight."

Bucky shivers, licking his lips as he stares up at Steve. "Oh?"

"It's your first time here, so we could go in just like this, let you get the lay of the land, watch a few scenes, and then head home."

Bucky swallows. "Or?"

Steve's answering grin leaves him stunned. "Or I could show you the things I brought," he says, nudging the duffle bag at his feet. "And we could show everyone what a cute little masochist you are."

Bucky takes his time thinking about what he wants. He knows that if he answers too quickly, Steve will demand he actually use his brain, not his dick. Meanwhile, Steve's hands stroke up his sides, skimming up to tease at his nipples, before skating back down to settle at his bare waist. 

Ultimately, Bucky doesn't just want to watch. He doesn't want to be a tourist. If he's here with Steve, he wants to _be_ with Steve, he wants to clearly and unequivocally belong to him; he wants everyone to know he's Steve's sub. If Steve wants to have a scene with him in front of an audience, when they've talked so much about Bucky's fantasies of being watched...

He loved when Natasha observed them. This will be like that, only more intense. 

"I want to see what you brought," says Bucky firmly. "I want to do whatever you planned for us."

"Then before we start and you get too hazy to think, let's reinforce rules. I won't tell you the scene, but I want to structure the evening, since this is all new."

"Red for stop," Bucky says automatically. "Snap my fingers or use the button if I can't talk. No begging."

"Good," praises Steve. "No one will touch you but me. We're going to spend at least a couple of hours watching first. Then I'll do a short scene with you. It won't be sexual, but you'll be naked and exposed."

Bucky nods, already trying to guess what it might be. "Okay."

"If we have sex after, it'll be in here. I got a private room for a reason. Sound good?"

"Yeah," breathes Bucky, nodding eagerly. 

Steve smiles at him. "Of course it does. Look at you, already panting for it. Slut," he says fondly. He picks up the duffle and opens it, extracting items and laying them out one by one on the big oak table: a black ball gag, Bucky's favourite leather collar, a leash, a big metal plug, a silver cock cage, a set of cuffs linked by a thin silver chain, and something he can't immediately identify that's a mess of leather and straps. Maybe a harness?

Bucky feels his cock twitch in his tight leather pants, his mouth watering. He licks his lips. "God," he groans. "I should have jerked off in the shower."

Steve lets out a startled laugh and pinches his side gently, though it still draws a soft noise out of Bucky. "Too bad. That greedy little cock is mine now, baby."

"Steve," he whines a little, pushing his hips against him. 

Steve smiles, sliding a hand down to get a nice handful of Bucky's ass, giving it a tight squeeze. When Bucky groans again, eyes fluttering shut, Steve lands a hard smack, Bucky's ass throbbing in response. 

Bucky's eyes fly open. "Steve!"

"Hush up," says Steve, though he's still grinning. "Think we need to get this gag in you before you get yourself in trouble. We haven't even left the room yet."

Bucky lets himself pout, batting his lashes winningly, which just makes Steve snort and slap his ass again. "Behave, Buck."

"I always behave. I'm very good."

"Uh huh." Steve picks up the ball gag and holds it to Bucky's mouth. "Open up."

Bucky rolls his eyes but obediently parts his lips; the ritual of Steve trussing him up always gets him going, turns him on and starts to slowly fill his brain with cotton. It's the pre-show and they both need a warm up. 

Steve uses both thumbs to pop the ball between Bucky's teeth, big hands cupping his jaw. He smooths his fingers back, pulling the straps with it, deftly buckling the gag on and adjusting the fit so that it's snug but comfortable. Bucky grunts, mouth held helplessly open around the big rubber ball. 

"There we go," croons Steve cheerfully. "You know I'm just helping you help yourself, huh, Buck? Keep that big mouth busy." 

He's starting in on the gentle condescension already, sinking right into Bucky's head and dragging him down. Bucky whines a little, wrapping his hands around Steve's wrists imploringly and looking up at him with big eyes; Steve _tsks_ and takes his hands in both of his, using then to turn Bucky away from him. 

"I got you something new," says Steve. He straightens Bucky's arms behind his back, holding them together with a squeeze. When he lets go, Bucky keeps his arms exactly as Steve put them. 

"It will keep your posture nice and straight," says Steve. "But you can't safeword or snap, so keep this against your palm so you can press it with your thumb."

A little button is tucked into Bucky's right hand, the rubber loop sliding over his thumb to guarantee he can't drop it. Steve presses it for him and it makes a clear, distinct tone, like a bell. "Nod if you understand," says Steve. Bucky bobs his head. "Good boy. Hold still."

There's a pause, some shuffling, and then Steve starts to—slide a leather bag up his arms?

"It’s an armbinder. It will keep your arms bound and back," says Steve. "They're pretty comfortable to wear."

Straps tighten at his wrists and elbows, bringing his arms firmly together. 

Steve comes around to stand in front of him, adjusting the rest of the straps around Bucky's shoulders and across his collarbones to rest over his upper chest. As he pulls the straps closed, Bucky instinctively thrusts his chest out.

Steve drags his thumb over Bucky's nipple under his shirt, pressing enough to make Bucky whine. "Oh, I know," says Steve, patting his cheek roughly. "You just need so much attention, don't you? But that's why we're here, so you can get all the attention you need."

Bucky's eyes flutter, eyelids heavy as he stares at Steve while he continues to get him ready. It's so nice, Steve is so nice, to take care of him like this. His body sways as Steve pops the button of his fly open, unzipping him and then pushing the leather and the soft black cotton briefs down his hips just enough to free his cock. It's already starting to get messy, drooling at the tip, closer to hard than not. 

Steve tuts. "Such a dirty boy."

Bucky makes a soft, pleading sound and Steve looks up, meeting his eyes as he pinches the tip between his thumb and fingers. Bucky squeals, but another wet drop of precome contradicts his protests. They both know what a slut for pain he can be.

"That sounded too much like begging," scolds Steve. He turns and picks up the bottle of lube, spreading just enough on Bucky's cock to make sliding the cock cage over it easy. He fastens it in place at the base and then turns him bodily again, pushing him over the table as he tugs his pants down over the swell of his ass.

Steve is quick and efficient as he preps his hole, pressing one, then two, slick fingers inside of him, tugging on his rim, making sure he's nice and wet, loose enough for what comes next. Bucky moans without a scrap of self-consciousness as Steve pushes the large metal plug into place, his ass clenching around it when it settles in nice and deep. He loves this, loves being full and bound and at Steve's mercy.

"Such a needy slut, gotta give you so much just so you stand a chance of being good for me." The faux-irritation digs in under Bucky's skin, makes him feel hot and shivery. He could float away, just like this. 

Steve sighs, pulling him up and turning him around again. He tucks Bucky's cock away, doing up his pants over the obscene bulge. Steve pats it, laughing. "Look at your little cock, putting on airs."

Bucky's cheeks flood with color. He grunts at Steve, frowning. _It's not that small._

Steve ignores him, cheerfully guiding him over to a little ottoman and pushing him down. It jostles the plug inside him and Bucky whines, not that it does any good. Steve is in full on mean-dom mode, and Bucky's gobbling it up like a kid gorging himself on Halloween candy. He knows this is going to be the perfect night. 

Bending down between Bucky’s spread thighs, Steve removes his leather boots and his socks, securing the cuffs around Bucky's ankles. The chain between them is short enough that it's gonna make walking a challenge, especially as he's dragged along behind Steve. 

Speaking of which, Steve picks up the last accessory.

Bucky tips his chin up, baring his throat for Steve. 

"Such a good little puppy," Steve murmurs, wrapping the collar around Bucky's throat and buckling it on, two fingers tucked between it and Bucky's neck to make sure it's comfortable. "So eager for walkies, hm?"

Bucky whimpers, shutting his eyes as a wave of humiliation cascades over him. There's a tug at the ring of his collar and then a soft click as Steve attaches the leash. 

Opening his eyes, he finds Steve watching him with a smirk on his face, the leash wound around his wrist. "Now you're all set," says Steve. "You want to see the actual club, don't you? Maybe watch some sweet subs get worked over with me?"

Bucky nods eagerly. He's still seated because Steve hasn't moved or made him move yet, and sitting while Steve looks down on him like that makes his dick and his asshole throb. He's so full, his body taut and sensitive, arms pulled back so snugly there's no hope he'll be able to stand up without stumbling. Steve's going to lead him around like this in front of people. Other people like Steve, sure, but also other subs. 

"Ready?" Steve asks seriously. "If you get uncomfortable, or even if you're fine and you just need a break, you hit that button."

"Mmhmm," agrees Bucky, nodding again. 

"Good," says Steve. He tightens his grip and pulls on the leash. "Up." 

Bucky struggles, leaning forward and then pushing up to stand, his arms useless behind him. He manages, though, swaying a little, while Steve moves smoothly to the door. Bucky follows on bare feet, keeping his strides short as the chain hobbles him. 

Steve leads him down the hallway, pushing through a heavy curtain, the music and voices growing in volume as they finally enter the club. 

It's big, though it feels intimate, curtains sectioning off different areas. The music is a low thrum, while people move through the space. 

Bucky can also hear, god, moaning, the distinctive sound of someone being spanked. Skin on skin. Laughter. It's heady, seductive, and he looks around wide eyed to take it all in.

It's a relief that he doesn't have to speak as they move deeper into the club, other patrons seeing them. Their eyes always move over Bucky, sometimes with interest, sometimes with jealousy, but always their gaze moves away and flicks up to Steve, giving him the nod of acknowledgement, the greeting, never Bucky. 

"Steve," says a familiar woman to their right. She gets up from a decadent chaise lounge that's positioned in front of a stage where some sort of scene is unfolding, walking toward them. "So lovely to see you here."

Bucky blinks through the fog in his own mind and looks closely at her. Oh. Ms. Lillian. He hasn't seen her in ages, almost a year. Steve hasn't needed to take him back to be remeasured, and he always just orders something new to be delivered. 

"Lillian," murmurs Steve warmly. He moves close to her, leaning into her space to press a kiss to her cheek that she reciprocates. "Likewise. How are you?"

"Wonderful, business has been good. You should bring your boy by the shop again soon. We have a few new styles I'm sure you'd love for him to try on for you," she says, but she doesn't acknowledge Bucky in the moment. 

It's truly as if Bucky is nothing more than an accessory here. His cock aches, throbs at the thought, and he sways a little, shoulder brushing against Steve unintentionally. Steve looks down at him and smirks. "Yes, maybe I'll do that, if he's a very good boy."

Bucky whimpers, blinking slowly up at him. He is good! Steve clucks his tongue and pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, shaking it out before he wipes the drool from the corners of Bucky's mouth. Bucky feels a hot swoop of humiliation at having to be cleaned up in front of Ms. Lillian like a messy puppy or a child. 

Steve lifts an eyebrow at him and there's a brightness to Steve's eyes that Bucky could stare into forever. Soon enough he turns away, tucking the square of cloth back into his pocket and looking to Ms. Lillian. "Here alone?"

"Oh, no," she gestures over to the corner she just came from where a very beautiful woman in a black leather corset is circling a man on his knees. "Vernon is just over there. I've lent him out for the evening. He promised me he'd put on quite the show."

With wide eyes, Bucky watches as the domme taps a riding crop against her open palm. She's murmuring to the man, to Vernon, but it's just for him, and Bucky can't hear what she's saying. It doesn't matter, though, because the effect is clear; his eyes are closed, his cheeks are damp, and he's trembling. 

She catches him when his posture sags a little, whipping the crop mercilessly across his shoulders. He cries out, back arching, and quickly straightens up again. His wrists are bound at the small of his back, and Bucky can see a cock ring constricting his flushed erection. 

Breathing in deeply through his nose, Bucky tunes back into Steve and Ms. Lillian while they chat casually as Bucky sways beside Steve in heavy bondage and her sub cowers at the feet of another domme. 

"They're just warming up," says Ms. Lillian. "I suspect they'll be at it for quite some time. I might get a drink and relax."

"It was a pleasure to see you. I'm going to do a full tour," Steve says warmly, leaning in to press another kiss to her cheek. 

"Of course. Enjoy your evening." Ms. Lillian's glance flicks appreciatively over Bucky for just a moment before she returns to her own scene. 

"Come," barks Steve. He jerks the leash and Bucky trips over his own feet, letting out a muffled protest as he rights himself and shuffles to keep up with Steve. The cock cage makes itself known, pressing meanly against his dick as it tries to swell at the dismissive treatment.

It's overwhelming in the best possible way. Steve has a lot of this equipment on a smaller scale in the playroom, but this is a true dungeon, set up with everything required to safely conduct a restrictive and demanding scene on any kind of furniture you could imagine. 

As they move slowly through the room, Bucky focuses on the guests, as well. 

There are plenty of people dressed like Steve, in immaculate formal wear; suits, cocktail dresses, polished leather shoes, heels, all of it. There are also plenty of people dressed like Bucky; a little trashier, in leather pants and skirts, midriffs bared in crop tops, mesh shirts, latex, and bodysuits. There are also people that are fully naked but for select accessories; collared and leashed, like him, or in restraints as they follow a partner around. Some are very clearly owned, just like Bucky, on the end of a leash, well-bound and thoroughly restricted by toys and heavier gear. 

One sub is totally unidentifiable in a hood and full-body latex suit, while a severe-looking woman wearing nothing but an underbust corset and a thong guides them through the crowd. 

As they explore, Steve greets quite a few people by name, though none of it registers. Bucky hasn't met any of them and he's more interested in openly gawking. 

He's distracted, then, when Steve directs Bucky firmly down to a set of plush couches. Steve sits comfortably and pulls Bucky carefully down to kneel on one of the cushions scattered on the floor. There's a stage set up and Steve curls his fingers into Bucky's hair and pulls him close, so that Steve's lips are just touching the shell of Bucky's ear. 

"You paying attention, puppy?" Steve murmurs, fingers pulling taut in Bucky's leash.

"Mmhm," Bucky agrees, nodding. This time, when Steve takes out his handkerchief to clean Bucky's chin, his other hand settles heavy at the base of Bucky's throat, just under his collar. 

"Good boy," praises Steve. "We're going to watch a nice show. You're going to sit good and still for me."

Bucky nods, letting his cheek rub against Steve's thigh as he leans against him. Steve's hand combs gently through his hair and Bucky feels fluttery and warm, peaceful in a way that should be bizarre given their circumstances. Instead, Bucky is...content. 

The scene in front of them is just setting up. Bucky watches as a cute woman, who looks as though she might be 5' nothing if it weren't for the thigh high boots with 5" heels that she's wearing, leads another woman out who is slightly shorter than her, but only because she's barefoot. They're beautiful together, and Bucky watches as the woman in heels begins to methodically and carefully tie up her sub. 

It's similar to the way Steve tied him up for Natasha all those months ago, and he sinks into the memory, the feeling, knowing that this sub must be experiencing something similar. It's beautiful to watch as she's suspended in the air, the way her domme works her over with a cat o' nine until she's trembling and sobbing and pleading. And then her domme gets out a hitachi and really makes her scream, begging to come. 

Bucky is panting by the time the domme finally allows it, and Steve gently tugs on his hair until Bucky looks away, looks up at Steve instead. "Did you like that?"

Bucky nods quickly, feeling how red his own cheeks are, how constricting the cage feels around his cock, how the plug inside him presses relentlessly against his prostate. 

"Do you think you're ready to go start our own scene?"

Bucky is trembling with anticipation when he nods again. 

"Good boy," praises Steve, and it draws a whimper from Bucky. God, he loves Steve.

Steve guides him up and tugs him along. They pass through another dark velvet curtain and Bucky finds himself in a small room with bottles of water and electrolyte drinks, a door that's ajar leading to a tiny bathroom, and a small shelf with stacks of washcloths and towels. Steve unbuckles his gag and pushes Bucky's sweaty bangs from his face. 

"This is a staging area," he says by way of explanation. "It can also be used for aftercare. Do you need to go to the bathroom?"

Bucky shakes his head, not really feeling up to talking just yet.

"Okay, then I'm going to give you some water and I'll help you out of your pants. Do you want me to decide if you stay in your underwear or not, or do you want to decide?"

Bucky huffs. Usually during playtime, Bucky doesn't have to make this many decisions. He wonders if this is just because it's their first time at the club or if this will be every time they come to the club. He'll ask later. For now, he grunts, "You."

"I know, I know, don't scowl at me like that," Steve says, his tone chiding. He grips Bucky by the chin and kisses him firmly. "You're being very good. I know you don't like to think much with that pretty, empty little head of yours."

Bucky melts into the kiss, his faint irritation fading with a fresh wave of demeaning heckling. 

When Steve breaks the kiss off, he gets started on stripping Bucky down. He frees Bucky's arms, first, rubbing at his wrists gently, then strips him out of his crop top, laying everything out neatly on an empty table. After removing the ankle cuffs, Steve even helps Bucky out of his pants, Bucky keeping both hands on Steve's shoulders as Steve ducks down to peel him out of the leather one leg at a time. His underwear ultimately goes with them, leaving Bucky naked but for his collar. 

"These are nice," says Steve, thumbing gently at Bucky's nipple rings. "They new?"

Bucky nods, squirming a little on the spot now that he’s totally nude. 

Well, almost. He's still trapped in the cock cage, too, and the plug is very hard to ignore. It doesn't seem like Steve's going to take them off. 

"Okay," says Steve. "One exception for this scene. You can make noise, obviously, as much as you like. But you can beg, too. We're going to have an audience, and I know you'll want to enjoy yourself. Without a gag, you get so anxious about whether you'll break rules, don't you?"

Wide eyed, Bucky nods. He'd been so convinced he'd mess up in front of Natasha, and a similar anxiety was setting in at the thought of being without a gag here. He wants to make Steve look good. 

"So I don't want you to worry at all," says Steve, taking him by the leash again, keeping it pulled taut between them. "Beg, plead, be as vocal as you need to. You're allowed, for this scene."

Bucky nods again, relief crashing through him. Steve wants him to succeed. Of course. 

"Come," says Steve. 

Bucky follows him back out. He keeps his eyes down, focused on his posture, on looking presentable. 

When Steve stops, Bucky stops just behind him, and glances up through his lashes to find they're standing at the foot of another stage where there's a gleaming St. Andrew's Cross set up.

Steve turns to him, tipping Bucky's chin up so they lock eyes. He doesn't say anything, but it's an opening. An opportunity for Bucky to safeword.

Bucky just looks at Steve and waits patiently.

"Up," Steve finally says. He steps up onto the stage and pulls Bucky up with him, guiding him to the cross. There's a bit of a crowd gathering, now; Bucky realizes the stage is round, and the audience will surround them. Even if Steve straps him to the cross with his back to Steve, Bucky will still be facing some of them. 

Steve takes Bucky firmly by the nape of his neck and guides him to the cross. "Arms up," he orders. 

The padded leather straps go around his wrists, waist, and ankles. When Steve kicks his feet apart and spreads his legs, Bucky realizes the people behind him can definitely see the base of the plug inside him. He closes his eyes, heat pooling in his belly as arousal floods his cock. There's nowhere to hide his face. He's spread open, helpless, exposed.

Steve's fingertips slide across his skin, traveling up his spine to bury in his thick hair, tipping his head back. His lips brush Bucky's earlobe as he speaks, "I want you to know, pup, you've been such a good boy all night. This isn't a punishment. I'm going to hurt you because I can and because I know you want it as much as you want everything I give you." 

Bucky shivers, a whine building in his throat as he licks his lips. "Thank you, Steve."

"Uh huh," says Steve, grinning as he pulls back with one last tug on Bucky's hair. "We'll see if you remember to thank me when I'm done."

Bucky hears his firm steps across the stage, hears him move around. The lights are bright on the stage, so it's hard to see any distinct faces in the crowd, just dark figures watching him. He squeezes his eyes shut a moment, wiggling against the cross. The intersection is pressed to his belly, and that means his cock is exposed to the people facing him. They'll see exactly what a slut he is for whatever Steve does. 

Steve's steps bring him closer again and when he speaks, this time it's loud enough for everyone to hear. "There's no number of strikes to count tonight, puppy. I'm going to go until your pretty backside is marked up exactly as much as I want it to be."

Bucky swallows hard and bobs his head in a nod. Steve's taking care of him by removing anything Bucky would need to work hard to think about. 

All he has to do is take it and he knows that he can do that well. 

He can be good for Steve, he can make noise, he can beg and plead in front of all these people. 

Steve is directly behind him. Bucky could probably see him if he turned his head, but he keeps his eyes forward, letting himself squirm against his restraints instead. He's well-secured, the cuffs soft and padded but firm, and having his legs spread like this sends a ripple of pleasure directly up to his dick. 

Steve waits so long, and Bucky is so distracted by the physical sensations of the cross, that the first flick of the flogger catches him completely by surprise. 

It arcs across his ass, soft, then lights up in belated stinging pain, such a contrast to the warmth and security he feels right now that he immediately lets out a shocked cry. 

"That's just a warm up," says Steve with a low chuckle. The soft leather kisses his skin again and Bucky licks his lips and arches into it, sighing. 

Steve always starts slow. Bucky can take a lot from a flogger and he clearly wants everyone to see just how much.

Steve is skilled and patient and builds Bucky up with measured strokes that drive louder and louder sounds from him. Bucky gives into it, lets himself sink deep into the feeling as the pain washes over him. 

It's good, heady and thick as it wraps him up, the sharp flares of sensation fading into a constant throb that he knows he'll feel tomorrow. He doesn't know when he started crying, not exactly, but he's startled by his own gasping, "Please! Oh—" he cuts off as the flog comes down on his shoulder, and he lets out a startled sob with the pain. 

His cock throbs in time with his heartbeat, his nipples aching. He tips his head forward and lets his hair fall into his eyes, sweat dripping down his face, his throat, and his chest. 

"Please?" asks Steve, his tone lightly mocking. "Please what, baby? Do you want me to stop?"

Panic trips through Bucky's chest, squeezing his heart. He shakes his head. "No!" he cries out. "No, please—please I need to come."

Steve laughs. "Of course you do. That's my little pain slut."

He doesn’t give Bucky what he wants, though. He just carries on, the leather bands finding their mark again and again.

Bucky's sure it doesn't actually go on for hours. Time just has a tendency to slow when he gets into his head like this, with Steve working him into a state of desperate longing and then keeping him on the very precipice of relief. It's never too much, somehow skirting the fine line of overstimulation, Steve picking and choosing where the flogger lands very carefully. Some strokes are so light the soft brush of leather startles Bucky more than when Steve's heavier strokes whip across his skin like licks of flame. 

It's probably minutes, not hours, every moment dragging out into tortured pleasure that consumes Bucky from the inside out. He's slick with sweat, his body is hot and raw like an exposed nerve, and all he wants is more. More sensation to drown himself in because the steady build of pleasure is better than the disappointing plateau when Steve pulls back a little to let him breathe. 

Bucky's own ragged breaths fill his ears, the murmur of appreciative voices a dull roar. He doesn't notice the crowd, not really, he's so focused on Steve; his voice, the touch of the flogger, the weight of his steps. Bucky wishes he could see him. Did he take off his suit? Is he still fully dressed? 

"Please," he gasps, arching into the lash of leather diagonally across his back. Each stroke has him clenching hard around the plug, driving himself crazy with need. "Please, please, Steve, please, sir, can I come? Please, I need—"

"You don't know what you need, baby," Steve says firmly. He punctuates his statement with a hard flick of the flogger across Bucky's throbbing ass. 

He wails, rattling his wrists in the cuffs. His head feels like a balloon, light and airy. If Steve would just release his cock, he could come from this. He knows he could. Sniffling, he shakes his head. "I don't, I know, I need...I need you..."

"Need me to do what?" 

Bucky sobs. "Just need you!" He barely feels the last few flicks of the flogger. It's almost like being gently stroked by it, now... No, that is what Steve is doing, trailing it softly over the heat of Bucky's back and ass and thighs. 

"Okay, puppy," Steve says indulgently. "What do you say when we finish?"

For a second, Bucky blinks into the lights, tears clumped on his lashes, uncomprehending. Then he nods and croaks, "Thank you."

"Mmm, good boy," murmurs Steve, and then his hands are gently freeing Bucky from his restraints, drawing him away from the cross. Bucky's knees buckle but before he can fall, Steve simply bends and then scoops him up. 

His hands are firm and warm, cradling Bucky to his chest as he walks right off the stage and takes Bucky through the club. Faintly, Bucky hears polite applause, but no one comes up to them as Steve strides through the big open rooms until they're back where they first started, the door to the Gold Room opening up and then closing firmly behind them. Bucky finds himself laid out on a bed of satin sheets, cool against his heated skin. 

Bucky is well and truly checked out, barely registering as Steve begins to take care of him. His cockcage is removed first, nimble fingers unfastening the catch, sliding it off his cock. Bucky whimpers, but Steve hushes him gently. 

Steve's lips brush over the bone of his hip, across his stomach. Bucky sighs contentedly and he hears Steve's answering chuckle, warm and indulgent.

For a moment, Steve steps away from him, but it's barely long enough for Bucky to register before he's back with a cool washcloth, wiping the sweat from Bucky's face, across his chest and abs. Bucky squirms as Steve cleans the tacky lube from his cock and then hisses as the sheets sting his back.

The washcloth lifts away and strong, warm hands grasp him next, guide him over onto his stomach. Bucky groans when they return with warmed ointment, methodically and firmly working it into his tender skin, soothing what must be crisscross welts all across his shoulders and upper back, down over his ass and the backs of his thighs. It shifts the sting and burn into a radiating warmth. 

By the time Steve is done, Bucky feels settled in his body again, present but comfortably sleepy. 

Steve pulls him up on his knees and Bucky stretches, widens his legs, reaches up to grab one of the pillows to bury his face against. The bed shifts as Steve settles behind him, his fingers tickling the backs of Bucky's thighs. "You did so good tonight."

Bucky whimpers. "Just—just wanna be good for you."

"You are good," Steve murmurs. "You've been such a good boy, Bucky. So proud of you."

Bucky's relief is thick in his throat as he lets out a shuddering sigh. "Did I look good?"

Steve chuckles warmly. "Of course you did. You looked a treat. Everyone watching us either wanted to fuck you or be you." Steve's fingers find the base of the plug, the weight of it tugging against his rim. 

"U-unh," groans Bucky, rubbing his cheek against the pillow. The tease of it, of Steve's fingers and the thick pressure of the plug, brings Bucky's arousal back to top of mind. He's still hard, perking up again as Steve works the plug out of him and then slowly presses it back inside. Bucky rolls his hips gently, lazily, fucking himself onto the toy. 

"Take it easy," cautions Steve. "Either you come on my cock or you don't come at all and I'll reacquaint you with that cock cage."

"Won't," mumbles Bucky. 

"Won't what?"

"Won't come."

Steve hums, drawing the plug out again so that the thickest point is stretching him open, making him sob a little, then finally it pops free entirely. "You've made that promise before." His fingers slide into Bucky's slick hole, curling in deep, and for a moment, every single nerve in Bucky's body lights up as Steve seeks out his prostate. 

"Steve," chokes Bucky, his hips jerking involuntarily, hard cock drooling out precome. "Not fair."

"How much do you want to sit on my cock?"

Bucky groans. "So much! Let me sit in your lap, I'll...I'll do all the work."

"You better," teases Steve. "My arm is sore."

"Will," he breathes out, licking his lips. "Gonna ride your cock so good, Steve, I promise."

"Uh huh," mutters Steve, but before Bucky can offer any more reassurances, Steve pats his hip and then helps him sit up on his knees. "Alright, think you've earned a little indulgence tonight."

Bucky nods, watching greedily as Steve gets up from the bed and starts stripping himself down, eyes bright and hypnotic as he meets Bucky's. Steve smirks, tugging his shirt up out of the band of his pants, peeling it off that incredible chest and the arms that Bucky constantly wants to closeline himself on. 

"Steve," he groans. "God, Steve you're so—if the whole successful designer and board member at Stark doesn't end up working out, you could definitely just be a cam boy. I'd spend all my money watching you flex."

"So now you can put together full sentences," huffs Steve, folding his shirt carefully and putting it aside. He glances at Bucky from under his lashes and then opens up the front of his pants, pushing them down his trim hips.

Bucky licks his lips, eyes wide, watching Steve with rapt attention as he methodically undresses. Every inch of ruddy, freckled skin bared to him has Bucky tense and trembling on his knees, working very hard not to touch his own cock without permission. "Steve," he whispers, mouth dry. "Steve, please let me have it."

"Listen to you," says Steve, chiding. "Greedy." His big hands fold his pants up, too, all his clothes neatly put away; when he straightens, Bucky's gaze zeroes in on Steve's cock, jutting up flushed and hard between his muscled thighs. Steve wraps a hand around the base, giving himself a squeeze, and it's Bucky who makes the strangled sound in response. 

"You want this?" demands Steve, hips angled toward Bucky. 

"Yeah," breathes Bucky.

Steve snorts with apparent amusement, narrowing his eyes. "Don't I know it."

Bucky whines, can't help himself. He wants it so damn bad, wants to sink down on that perfect cock, feel it stretch him wide. He wants to watch the way Steve's breath will hitch when he does, wants to know Steve's just as affected as him. "Steve."

"Mmhmm, sure took that permission to beg to heart. Do it every time, don't you?" he says lightly, but he's moving closer to the bed now, finally climbing back on. He positions himself with his back to the leather covered headboard, pushing a couple of pillows behind him before he pats his lap like he's calling a dog. "Well, come on."

Bucky's cheeks flood with color but he eagerly clambers over onto Steve's lap. Their cocks drag against each other and Bucky grunts. His hands go automatically to Steve's shoulders for balance and he shimmies closer, until his cock is pressed against Steve's abs while Steve’s cock bumps against Bucky's balls and slides between his legs.

So close. He's so close to getting what he wants. He was good, he took it all, and now he gets this. It's only fair. 

"You said you'd do all the work," Steve rumbles, raising his eyebrows at Bucky. "So, go on. Take what you want, puppy."

Steve always knows exactly how to bring Bucky low, stoking just the right amount of humiliation to needle at him. Reaching back to wrap his fingers around Steve's cock, Bucky bites his bottom lip and lowers himself down as he guides his cock inside him. 

Finally, Bucky sinks down with a deep sigh, the blunt head of Steve's cock stretching him open and filling him up, hot and thick.

He doesn't do much work at first, lets his instincts guide him into short little circles with his hips, barely more than a wriggle as he works Steve's cock in just a little deeper, gets himself comfortable until he's fully seated. Steve does groan then, barely more than a rough sigh, and Bucky can't help but smile. "Yeah?"

Steve lets out a huff, but there's a whisper of a smile on his lips as he reaches up and gives Bucky's hip a quick pinch before he lets his hand settle there. "You know I love that ass of yours, Buck. Don't get smug. Ride it like you mean it."

Bucky laughs breathlessly, fingertips dragging down Steve's chest as he swivels his hips again and again, working Steve's cock just where he wants it, until the next time he rises up just a little, it drags past his prostate perfectly. 

"Oh god." His cock bobs, jerks up against his stomach with a slap before he settles again. "Steve, I love your dick so much."

"Well," drawls Steve, gripping Bucky's chin firmly between thumb and forefinger and holding his head in place for a hard kiss. "That's what every guy wants to hear, huh?" Steve sounds a little out of breath when he finishes. 

"When I've got your dick inside me, that's what I'm gonna be thinking about," gasps Bucky. He's really getting into it, now, working his hips frantically, practically bouncing on Steve's lap as he clutches at his shoulders. "Fills me up so good, so deep... Oh, fuck, ah!"

"It's up to you," drawls Steve, rolling his head back against the leather. "Take it, honey. If you want to come, you have to make it happen. On my cock, or not at all."

The mild threat coils arousal in Bucky's belly, adds a thread of additional desperation. He wants to come. He wants to come on Steve's cock, wants this night to be perfect. His own erection rubs against his belly, wet and messy.

Intent on success, he screws himself down, writhes and clenches, grabbing at Steve, at his shoulders and his neck. He pushes into Steve's space, chases hungry kisses and panting breaths, tangles his fingers in the hair growing out at the nape of Steve's neck and rolls his spine to get Steve's cock where he wants it—where he needs it. 

"That's it, such a good little slut, so fucking desperate," hisses Steve, voice finally gone rough, teeth digging into Bucky's bottom lip when Bucky tries to kiss him again. "Next time I bring you here, gonna fuck you in front of all those people so they can see exactly what kind of desperate boy you are, let them see you cry and beg and come all over yourself for me—"

Steve might keep going, but Bucky doesn't really hear him. He doesn't process anything but his orgasm as it finally slams through him, his imagination playing through the tableau of people watching them. 

As soon as his come splashes across Steve's stomach, Steve's in motion, grabbing him by the hips and flipping him down onto the bed. Bucky's eyes roll back as Steve pins his wrists to the mattress and fucks him hard and fast.

Steve folds him practically in half as he drives into him, thrusting in hard and deep. The weight of him spread over Bucky, filling him up, holding him down— 

"That's it," rumbles Steve, voice rough with pleasure. "Feel so good, honey. So sweet for me."

Bucky groans, tossing his head back. Steve is thick and hot inside him, splitting him open. Bucky is so tender and raw, sensitive all over, the heat of it rolling through him. "Steve," he sighs, shaking with overstimulation. The edge of _too much_ curls around the base of his spine, making him squirm.

"Sweetheart," murmurs Steve, kissing him wet and open-mouthed. His hips move with purpose, relentless, and Bucky can feel the tension build in his muscles as he fucks him.

"Take it," Bucky mumbles. "Take it, Steve, take—what you want, I'm..." Steve angles his hips just right, igniting a spark of fresh arousal, Bucky arching his back with a sob.

"You're mine," snaps Steve. "You're mine and everyone knows it."

"Yeah, y-yeah, I'm yours, oh, oh—" Bucky's world goes white hot and sharp, sparking across his senses with every plunge of Steve's cock until a twist of pleasure tears through him, out of him, and his brain disconnects from his body as he shudders through a second orgasm way too quickly. 

Steve's teeth scrape against his shoulder as Steve makes a harsh, guttural noise of his own, coming inside of Bucky. 

It's several minutes—maybe several lifetimes—until Bucky feels like he can breathe normally again, blinking up at the ceiling as Steve finally rolls off of him. "Oh god."

"Yeah," agrees Steve. 

Bucky gives into the urge to whine, wriggling as all the muscles in his body remind him quickly how sore he is all over. It's a pleasant ache, though, and he sighs deeply. "Steve, take me home, please. I want a bath."

"Oh, is that so, your highness?" chuckles Steve, voice indulgent. His hand splays over Bucky's belly, heavy and warm, petting him absently. "I'll take you home, Buck. I'll wash your hair, hm?"

Bucky hums, nodding, and closes his eyes. He feels like melted marshmallow. Steve shifts, his weight lifting off the bed, and Bucky hears the water running in the adjoining bathroom. A moment later, the bed dips again, and the washcloth is back to clean Bucky up gently. 

"You sleepin', princess?" rumbles Steve. 

"No," mumbles Bucky. "Awake."

Steve has to help him back into his clothes, smoothing leather up his legs and pulling the crop top over his head. By the time Bucky is dressed, he's regained enough of his senses to stand, leaning heavily against Steve, cuddling against his broad chest. 

Steve guides him out, keeps him held close as they leave the club and climb into the car. Bucky nods off on Steve, only waking up back at the penthouse, cradled in his arms as Steve carries him to the bedroom and into the master bath. 

"As requested," murmurs Steve.

Bucky watches contentedly as Steve draws the bath and fixes it up the way Bucky likes it best before turning back and methodically stripping the clothes he just dressed Bucky in. Bucky can't help a giddy giggle, blinking sleepy eyes up at Steve. 

Steve smiles back. "What are you laughing about?"

"I might not be rich, but..." Bucky shrugs, grinning. "I got a rich guy as my personal servant so that's pretty good."

"Brat," snorts Steve, but his expression doesn't shift. After he's got Bucky naked, he quickly divests himself of his suit and then scoops Bucky back up and gets into the tub, settling Bucky between his legs. He can't be _that_ put out about Bucky's brattiness. 

Bucky just leans back against Steve's big, broad chest, enjoying the tickle of chest hair and the rumble that vibrates from him to Bucky. Steve picks up the soap and starts washing Bucky up, alternating between kissing his skin and cleaning it. Bucky's starting to drift again when Steve brings him back with a question. "Was it everything you wanted?"

Bucky groans appreciatively. "Yes, so much yes. That was...incredible, Steve."

Steve kisses his neck with a loud smack. "Good. I enjoyed enacting your fantasy, too."

His hands skim up Bucky's sides, sitting him up so that Bucky is leaning forward a bit. Bucky whines a little, grumbling at being moved off Steve's chest, but Steve holds him still and says, "Hold still and close your eyes," firmly. 

When Steve's hands settle on his head, he starts to rub shampoo into Bucky's hair. 

"I didn't think we'd ever actually do that," admits Bucky, as Steve's long fingers massage his scalp. 

"Do what?" asks Steve. "Go to the club?" 

"Yeah. I thought maybe you wouldn't be...into that. Strangers, watching."

Steve doesn't say anything for a long moment, but his hands don't falter. He tips Bucky's head back and starts to rinse Bucky's hair. "When we had the contract, I wouldn't have taken you," Steve says. His voice is quiet and even. 

"But it's different now?" Bucky stays good and still. Steve moves his head again, rubbing conditioner in now. 

"Yes," says Steve without hesitation. "You could fantasize about anything and it wouldn't bother me. Sometimes I can make it come true. At the time, when you told me, I knew as long as the arrangement was in place, I couldn't take you to a club. Not when we weren't..." Steve clears his throat. "Not when it wasn't a relationship."

"Would you have been jealous?"

Steve laughs softly. "It would have made me too sad, Buck."

"Oh," says Bucky, a little stunned. He's not sure why. 

It's been just over seven months since they finally became a real couple, and he knows it wasn't an easy transition. He remembers, he was there. Sometimes though, it still manages to creep up and sucker punch him. Steve spent so long knowing how he felt about Bucky but not knowing if Bucky would ever love him back. Bucky doesn't think he could have handled that, if the circumstances were reversed. 

"Buck." Steve presses a kiss to Bucky's cheek as he gently combs his fingers through Bucky's wet hair, checking for residue. "I'm just glad I get to take you now. I'm glad there are still so many new things we get to do together."

Bucky huffs, but he lets Steve brush away the concern, skim over the achy, tender spot of their relationship that still hurts when they bump it. "Mmm, yeah, like what you said when I was riding you."

"I'm sorry, it's been a hectic night. Can you remind me again what I said?" He's got some mischief in his voice and Bucky knows he's being wound up.

"You said you'd fuck me in front of everyone so they could see who I belong to," answers Bucky, turning to look back at Steve, meeting his eyes boldly. "I mean, unless you want to keep it a mystery—"

"Don't think it's a mystery even now, puppy," says Steve. "Everyone heard you begging."

Heat floods Bucky's cheeks at the memory. The audience had been peripheral at the time but it's sinking in, now; strangers had watched Steve strap him to a cross and flog him. They'd watched him cry and beg and sob for more while locked in chastity and stuffed full with a plug. They applauded. It had only made it better.

He'd let Steve do whatever he wanted. Bucky definitely wants to go back to the club. 

"I was playing my part," sniffs Bucky. "Didn't want to make you look bad." 

"Mm, of course," laughs Steve. "How considerate of you, Buck. It had nothing to do with how easy it is for me to work you up. You get high on humiliation. You're an addict."

Bucky turns fully in the tub, knees tucked, to face Steve. Then he scoots forward and hides his face in Steve's shoulder. "Maybe," he says. "Maybe at some point."

"Bucky, that was just talk," Steve reassures him, hand on his back, rubbing in very gentle circles.

"I know. But I'll think about it anyway."

"Okay. I can think of plenty we could do without having sex in the main room."

"You can always think of plenty," snorts Bucky. 

"You dream up half of it, Bucky."

"Yeah." Bucky sighs, lips against Steve's skin. "I liked it. All of it. Thank you. I loved my surprise."

"You feeling better?"

For a second, Bucky has no idea what Steve is talking about. "I'm fine?" 

Steve snorts. "I hate to break the spell, if you can't even remember. You've been so stressed, honey."

Bucky winces, feeling oddly guilty as he sits back up to get a better look at Steve. "I'm sorry." 

With a huff, Steve shakes his head. "You don't have to be sorry. Even ignoring the fact that you don't need a reason to have off days, if you really wanted, there's a whole list of reasons to pick from. We just got done with a rush of big holidays, the first time in a long time you've done anything like that, and then you've got school coming up in two weeks."

"Well, now that you mention it..." Bucky cracks a smile, giving a half shrug. "Tonight did help, though. Thank you."

Steve rubs his arms, pulling him close again for a gentle kiss. When they break apart, he's giving Bucky that searching, intensely blue-eyed look. "You know...you can tell me when things are getting bad, right? I'll try to always look out for you, I want to do that, but it shouldn't have to get to a point where you're barely functional, got it?"

Bucky feels his cheeks heat. His chest feels tight and his eyes prickle. "I just—" He has to close his eyes, unable to meet Steve's when his body feels like it's getting ready to hurl itself off a cliff. "I don't want...to be too much for you."

Bucky braces himself for the response, hoping and dreading that he's going to get Steve's instant reassurance. 

Instead, Steve's quiet for a long time. So long that Bucky finally peeks his eyes open, feeling suddenly silly for having them closed. Steve's only watching him, his expression thoughtful rather than sad or angry or...anything else Bucky might have been expecting. 

"Steve?"

Finally, Steve takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Buck, have you...I know the last year has been kind of a wild ride and so much has changed, and—" He breaks off, and his hands come up to cup Bucky's face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. 

Bucky's fingers flex against Steve's shoulders, his anxiety bringing tears to his eyes. Blinking them back quickly, he sniffles a little and turns into one of Steve's hands, kissing the palm. He wants to be brave, desperately. His voice only breaks once as he asks, "Have I what, Steve?"

"Have you considered...going to see someone, professionally?" 

Bucky blinks. "Have I what?" He's not angry, he's just...confused.

Steve stays steady, his hands warm and firm against Bucky's cheeks. It's a good thing he's so calm, and Bucky's feeling so well-used and comfortable, because otherwise Bucky thinks he'd probably fly apart. 

Honestly, maybe that's what Steve is talking about. 

"When my mom died, I started going to therapy," says Steve, which is not what Bucky is expecting him to say at all. But at the same time, Steve's gentle voice, the concern on his face, starts to slot together into a more complete picture. He's worried about Bucky. "I was lucky to have close friends that encouraged me in the right direction. I tend to turn inward, when I'm struggling. Talking helped."

"But I'm not grieving," Bucky protests weakly. "I'm...I'm fine, I'm happy. I've got you and Becca, your friends and mine, I'm about to start school...."

"And you've got anxiety," Steve points out softly. "I'm not trying to suggest none of those things aren't true, too."

Not for the first time, Bucky wishes his first instinct wasn't always just to fucking cry. He's sitting here naked in the bathtub with Steve, he's safe, he just got taken care of in the best way possible, and a simple, straightforward conversation about vulnerability makes him want to eject himself into space. 

Steve makes soothing noises, his thumb brushing at Bucky's cheek. "We don't have to keep talking about this if you're too tired or overwhelmed, Buck, but I think we should come back to it."

"It's okay," Bucky says hoarsely. "I'm fine, I'm not upset, I'm just..." He laughs sheepishly. "Everything makes me cry."

Steve gives him such a warm, loving smile, Bucky wants to bask in it like a turtle under a heat lamp. 

"I should have gone back to therapy," Steve says earnestly. "After my divorce. I can see that now, looking back. I should have been in therapy when we met, but I was too stubborn. I didn't listen. Having someone to talk to, to help you manage when you're feeling fried...."

"Yeah," says Bucky. It makes sense. It makes a lot of sense. Sometimes, Bucky is at capacity, and he doesn't know what to do when he inevitably boils over. "I guess I just never thought about it."

"Well...then now you can think about it," says Steve reasonably. "I'm not saying that therapy is all things to all people. It's not an instant fix, either. And sometimes you don't find the right person who can provide the right kind of therapy at the right time in your life, and getting all those things to lined up takes time and resources...both of which were in short supply for someone working full time and barely making ends meet. So...all I'm saying is consider it."

Bucky makes himself take several calming breaths. Consider it. Think about it. That's all he's got to do right now. He bites his lip. "Okay, I will."

"Thank you." Steve leans up, pressing a plush, closed lip kiss to Bucky's mouth. "And just so we're clear, you could never be too much for me. I love you, Bucky. That's not going to change because you have a rough week or month or whatever it is. I always want to be the person in your corner, helping you and loving you and being there for you, however you need."

And that's it, Bucky feels the tears that have been threatening spill over. He's such a fucking crybaby. He nods and pushes close again, wrapping his arms around Steve and kissing his lips and his chin and jaw and cheek, his whole face as they both start laughing. "Alright, you big mushy sap. Get me out of this tub. I'm starting to prune."

Steve's eyes crinkle. "You got it, princess."

Bucky tucks his face against Steve's neck as Steve lifts them both from the tube, only setting him down when they're over the big bathroom rug. Bucky lets himself lean into Steve's touch as he dries them both off, his mind turning over everything Steve said. 

He's not sure if he's going to pursue it right away, but...maybe it could be good, to have someone to help him pick apart the thoughts that still sometimes try to chase away every moment of peace he finds for himself. 

For now though, he feels good, his brain still and quiet, and Steve is taking care of him.

"Bed time," says Steve, and then he scoops Bucky up and carries him to their bed.

**Author's Note:**

> We can't wait to read what you think and we're still accepting requests for kinks/scenarios for the future.
> 
> However, our next story will not take place in this 'verse. We're working on a whole new Steve/Bucky to be posted ~soon. ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> You can come hang out w/ half of us on twitter @[2bf_toofurious](https://twitter.com/2bf_toofurious)!


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